


a river flows surely to the sea

by AozoraNoShita



Series: vague undefined office au [2]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: 5+1 Things, Fluff without Plot, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-08
Updated: 2016-09-08
Packaged: 2018-08-13 19:48:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7983973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AozoraNoShita/pseuds/AozoraNoShita
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five things that are cleared up after Aaron started dating Alex (finally), and one completely new thing he realized after an incident involving harmonicas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	a river flows surely to the sea

**Author's Note:**

> I've never written a five-and-one thing before  
> I had to bs my way through this one since I was never really sure where I was going with it and WRITERS BLOCK like you wouldn't believe, unless you are also experiencing that special kind of hell in which case I feel you  
> but hey, here's 2k of SOMETHING  
> (assume this is after they have moved in together)

**1: Touching is definitely okay.**

This was maybe a bit of an obvious one, especially after all the ridiculousness that preceded actually _dating_ Alexander, but Aaron had free reign to touch him just about whenever he wanted. And it was glorious.

“I thought you were handsy before,” Alex commented lying in bed while Aaron ran his hand down the curving lines of his spine and the back of his lovely, lovely thighs.

“Is that a problem?”

“ _Aaron_. Don’t start that again.”

As a matter of fact, Alex got a little huffy if Aaron _hadn’t_ touched him in a while. So Aaron happily obliged, making sure to link their arms and interlock their ankles while they were sitting, reach out to stroke his cheek or tug his ponytail in passing at work, and once even kneel down and hike up Alex’s right pant leg in the elevator when it occurred to him that he hadn’t ever touched one particular spot right below the kneecap and he needed to remedy that immediately. Sure, it had led to some awkward questions when Mulligan stepped onto the elevator, possibly some incorrect conclusions had been reached based on how they were positioned, but whatever.

The best part was Alex returning the favor. They’d be walking in step, Alex on a tangent complete with wild gesticulation and numerous hairflips, and Aaron would reach an arm out sideways, wiggle his fingers, and have Alex step into the hold automatically. He’d put an arm around his waist, and Alex would mirror the gesture so they were walking with their arms around each other, looking like a picture-perfect couple in a romantic movie.

Sometimes he’d grab for Alex’s hand, look over and see the unfiltered happiness in his boyfriend’s face because they were touching, and when he met Aaron’s gaze and smiled wider at the reciprocal joy he felt in his own expression. And he’d get this feeling, something he couldn’t quite place—

  


**2: Alex did not like being underneath anyone.**

Specifically, he did not like to be _physically_ underneath people. He wanted to be on top. Always.

Sitting down, Aaron would often find himself with a lapful of tactile boyfriend. They’d go to bed and wake up with Alex sprawled on top of him. And in another new development, Alex had discovered that he could get away with forcing Aaron to give him piggyback rides. The boost in height put him right about even with Jefferson, and so Aaron found himself roped into arguments between the two, with Alex dragging him along to stand next to him until he felt his next point would be best made from on high and he’d start pawing at Aaron’s shoulder until he gave in, sighing and kneeling down so Alex could climb onto his back before he stood up again.

The first time this had happened, Jefferson had laughed and Alex had promptly kicked him in the solar plexus. Aaron had fled, carrying him off before Jefferson could come back up again, with Alex protesting the whole way that “they could take him like this, c’mon, Aaron!”

“You’re unbelievable,” Aaron had grumbled, but was mostly mollified when he felt a kiss being pressed to the top of his head.

“Need to shave again soon,” Alex pointed out. “I can help.”

He had actually helped, the last two times, with Aaron sitting on a stool and Alex with the razor above him, careful and thorough.

“Sounds good,” he said, and flopped face-first onto the comfy couch in the lounge so that Alex fell with him and landed in a laughing heap on top of him. Alex collected himself enough to sit back up and straddle him, then started rubbing his back.

It did sound good, and sometimes Aaron thought—

  


**3: He’d thought Alex was a clothes thief before, but actually being together brought it to another level.**

Alex stole everything. Shirts, pants, ties, shoes, and socks especially. How the man could lose so many pair of socks was incomprehensible. Seriously, Aaron kept having to buy new packs. And buying the weirdly-patterned novelty socks only seemed to encourage the behavior rather than head it off like he’d been hoping. And then he had to wear rainbow fish socks.

“You brought this on yourself,” Alex told him, after a solid minute of cackling upon finding Aaron staring forlornly at one hazard-bright orange sock with pumpkins on it.

This was not even worthy of a response, especially considering Alex was currently wearing a red T-shirt, some gray boxers, and the first pair of white socks Aaron had seen in weeks. Naturally, all these articles of clothing were Aaron’s.

“You’re going to stretch the waistband on those,” he muttered, a bit sullen. The pumpkins were in fact jack-o-lanterns. They grinned up at him mockingly.

Alex just scoffed and did a little sideways shimmy towards him. It should have been ridiculous, but instead Aaron found himself watching said waistband, and the motion of Alex’s hips. “These look great on me and you love it.” He stopped, tantalizing, just out of arm’s reach.

“They’d look better on the floor?” he offered.

“Too easy! Low-hanging fruit! You suck at this.”

“Should I avoid the obvious ‘suck’ innuendo, then?”

Alex paused and thought about it. “I think we can work with that one.”

And perhaps it was too easy, but he was really starting to think that maybe—

  


**4: Alex complained a lot, but he rarely meant it.**

Well, maybe a bit more than rarely.

It seemed like mostly he just wanted to _talk_ , and his default mode was combative, so he ended up complaining a lot. Mostly about the weather, and the line at the coffee place near the office, and the amount of work he had to do. Stuff like that. But often he wasn’t even annoyed, he was just griping for the sake of griping. He sometimes got genuinely pissed off dealing with work issues (and certain coworkers), but there was a difference between that kind of explosive yelling and the frequent but quieter diatribes he was prone to starting.

It took Aaron a while to figure this out, though. At one point he’d had to institute a new ‘no energy drinks after 5pm’ rule when his keyed-up boyfriend had kneed him in the groin crawling into bed at 3 in the morning, and Alex had spent an entire week complaining about how unfair it was. Loudly, at random moments throughout the day. Even when they were at work.

Aaron had been holding firm, refusing the acknowledge the complaints when Alex started up. But by the end of the week, with Alex still docilely following him to bed at a respectable 10:30, sleeping draped all over him, and attempting to lure him back into bed in the mornings, it had occurred to him that Alex didn’t really seem that bothered.

“How am I supposed to get any work done?” Alex was muttering, even as he typed feverishly on his laptop. “How am I going to stay _awake_? What kind of a rule is that?”

“That’s nice, dear,” Aaron told him.

Alex looked up briefly to stick his tongue out at him, and went right back to his simultaneous type-muttering. Despite his words, he appeared to be 0% annoyed.

Well then.

 _Well, then_ —   

  


**5: Alex’s friends did, in fact, like him.**

He’s always been on decent terms with Mulligan, because it was hard not to be with such a friendly and accepting person. He’d risen in Lafayette’s esteem just by virtue of dating Alex. He could still be kind of a dick about it, but considering the Frenchman had once called him “the literal worst” at an office party, it was a vast improvement. Between the two of them, Aaron was subjected to near-constant ridicule of the middle school “someone has a _cruuuush_ ” variety. But they seemed to like him well enough, and over time Aaron grew into a fond appreciation of their particular brand of rambunction.

Laurens was more difficult.

He oscillated between wary-bordering-on-hostile and can-you-believe-we-deal-with-this-guy-sympathetic, and Aaron never knew which version he was going to get at any given time. So sue him, he tended to step out of the apartment when he knew Laurens was coming over to hang out. He’d gotten it down to almost an art, managing to arrive back at the apartment, ‘errands’ done, ten minutes after Laurens had left. This worked, until it didn’t.

He came back to the apartment one night to find Alex standing in the middle of the living room with a wild grin on his face. This distracted him momentarily, enough that it took him a second to realize that Laurens was huddled on the couch, also grinning. “Oh, you’re still here,” he said, before he could stop himself.

“Don’t be fucking rude,” Alex chided before Laurens could respond. “Of course he’s still here, we’ve spent this entire time practicing a harmonica duet to perform for you when you got back.”

“Um. No thank you,” was his immediate response, before he even had to think about it.

“But it’s the Imperial March, and we fucking kill it.”

“No, no thank you,” he said again, noting that Alex was swearing more frequently than usual, a common side-effect of hanging out with his best friend.

“ _What_!” Alex practically shouted, like this was the most insulting thing he’d ever heard. “So much effort, Aaron! A labor of love! And you don’t even want to hear it, what the fuck. Unbelievable.”

Forgetting himself for the second time in such a short span, Aaron asked, “Can you actually play the Imperial March on harmonicas, I mean, what does that even sound like?”

‘Well I guess you’ll never know, since you don’t want to hear it.” He turned to Laurens, who had started giggling. “You see this? You see how I’m treated?”

Aaron recognized a losing battle when he saw it, and sighed. “Fine, let’s hear it.”

Alex whipped back around. “Wait, really? That took a lot less effort than I thought it would. John stop laughing, we gotta play the thing! Where did my harmonica go?” He started shaking out his sleeves, looking for the instrument. Except, what, his sleeves were enormous and printed with the Princeton logo, and in fact his sleeves were part of a rather large article of clothing that almost looked like a blanket, all printed with numerous orange and black logos.

“Are you wearing a Snuggie?” he asked, incredulous.

Alex froze for a moment, then pulled out his phone (which _was_ actually in his sleeve). “Say Snuggie again, I wanna record it.”

“You are _not_ recording me saying Snuggie.”

“Got it! Oh my God, I’m making this my text tone.” And he proceeded to play back Aaron saying the word ‘Snuggie’ ten times in a row.

Laurens had devolved into full-blown, howling laughter at this point.

“Please stop,” Aaron requested, heartfelt.

“Okay, but the harmonicas!” Alex broke back in, insistent.

“Never mind! I don’t want to hear it anymore!” He was yelling, just a tiny bit, to be heard over the hysterics happening on the couch.

“We were lied to!” Alex shouted back, presumably addressing Laurens. “He doesn’t appreciate us at all, he’s trying to make me cry! Look, you’ve made John cry!”

Laurens did actually have tears of mirth streaming down his face.

“You’re so cruel, Aaron. Denying us Snuggies and harmonica duets, and _energy drinks_. This song is for you, you evil dictator.” And he produced his harmonica from seemingly nowhere, playing the first few notes before pausing, “John come on, we practiced this.”

Laurens, to his credit, did attempt to join in, but he was laughing too hard and the best he could do was play spurts of nasally notes in time with his gasping breaths.

“I hate both of you,” Aaron announced, to the tune of either the best or worst harmonica rendition of the Imperial March ever played. Alex seemed spurred on by this declaration, if the increased volume was anything to go by.

Except, of course, he didn’t hate them. In fact, he’d just realized, complaining and clothes-stealing and harmonica-playing and all—

  
  
**+1: He really, really wanted to marry Alexander Hamilton.**

**Author's Note:**

> sooooo....possibly I will write an actual proposal fic for this au  
> once I figure out how that would go down  
> also apparently "rambunction" is an acceptable colloquial form of "rambunctiosness" and I love it  
> feel free to hmu on tumblr @aozoranoshita


End file.
